Tie your heart up with string
by hermymad
Summary: A story that picks up and becomes AU from after the proposal scene. How will Jo cope and how will the loss of her beloved Teddy affect her and the people around her? What should have happened between Laurie and Jo after that day.
1. Too Late

A little story that was buzzing around inside my head and that I just had to get down. It started life as a one shot story (AU from the proposal onwards), but I think I might expand it into something more. I hope you enjoy reading it and let me know what you think, and whether it is worth continuing or not. Also, if it wasn't obvious: I love Jo and Laurie's relationship.

Too Late

Jo lay in bed, the tortured drama of two characters spinning through her thoughts, distracting her waking mind and keeping her from sleep. It was late, well past midnight in fact, and the bright moonlight falling across her pillow added only a further distraction. She had written many a fanciful scene under such a moon, tales of unrequited romance, daring adventure and heartfelt confessions. However, unlike on so many occasions previously the characters keeping her awake tonight were not the flighty imaginings of her creative soul, but very solid, very real and painful in a way she could never have imagined possible.

Every time she tried to close her eyes it was as though Teddy's face had been painted on the back of her lids. His anguished words echoed in her ears as she replayed her own, trying to think if she could have refused him more gently somehow. It was a useless exercise seeing as how the damage had already been done, and irreparably too. She should have long since been asleep, but there were too many thoughts tumbling about inside her head for that. Besides sleep was cruel, and it refused to come when called.

Why could he not understand that what they had was precious? Altering it in such an irrevocable way with constraints such as love and marriage: that was not for them. That was not the way they were. Jo and Teddy: they would be best friends until the trumpets sounded and the world turned. Why did things have to change so? Nothing had been wrong with the way things there, unless Laurie's peculiar behaviour around her recently was counted, which, especially given the way today had proceeded, she tried not to.

Biting back a frustrated sigh Jo tossed and turned in her bed, struggling to find a comfortable position. Finally she dragged the covers up around her long, thin frame and buried her face into the pillow, trying to force herself to sleep and her mind to empty although not necessarily in that order. She had very nearly succeeded in one of these when, from some open window in the house, a mischievous breeze carried the distant sound of a piano being crashed at mercilessly. The mournful melody cascading up and down the notes scorched at her heart in a way that little else could. What pain she had caused her boy, her Teddy! Oh if only he hadn't spoken, if only she had been able to love him the way he wanted her to, if only things had been able to go on as before, but things were as they were and there was nothing to be done about it now.

There was an emotion in Laurie's music that she had never heard before in all the countless times she had heard him play over the years. It was something dark and angry that spoke of a sorrow and regret which the boy he had been would have been incapable of expressing. The knowledge that she had put such a thing into his music, into him, brought fresh tears. Eventually, unable to bear the sound of the piano any longer Jo threw her blankets over her head and cried for the first time over the whole sorry mess.

When morning came she felt drained and exhausted. Sleep had not turned out to be the refuge she had hoped and in her dreams she had encountered Teddy's face at every turn, her mind reliving his proposal to mock her. She woke, fractious and out of sorts. Judging by the way the shadows fell around her room she guessed it must be almost noon. Marmee, using that motherly intuition that seemed to come so naturally to her, had obviously sensed that something was troubling her Jo and not wanted to disturb her. Still there was no use in putting off the day and so she rose, getting dressed quickly before creeping down the stairs.

The house seemed more empty than usual as she flitted from room to room trying to find her mother, perhaps it was Meg's absence, perhaps it was the knowledge that Laurie and she might never again romp about it's halls as they used to, perhaps it was a little of both. Eventually she found her mother and Beth sitting by the hearth and to those who knew her best Jo's troubled mind was immediately apparent for all that she tried to hide it. So Jo poured out her woes, holding nothing back. She began with her realisation that Laurie had been acting differently of late, sobbed into Marmee's skirts as she told them of what had passed between them in the grove, of how he had fled from her, of her confession to Mr Laurence and how she so desperately wanted to put things right between them again. All the while Marmee stroked her hair in silence and Beth held her hand tightly between her own pale ones. If either were disappointed they did not say, for they knew Jo and they knew she would only be happy in a marriage if she gave herself freely, truly and whole.

As to the matter of fixing things, Marmee counselled a cautious approach. She should leave Laurie for a few days before she attempted to speak with him. However honest and well-intentioned her words had been Laurie's pride had been wounded as well as his heart, she should give him some time to simmer before trying to mend the bridges that had been broken between them.

And so Jo waited. Initially she had intended to wait for a least a week before she tried to set things right, but in the end her patience only lasted for three days before she found herself marching across to the Laurence house with a demand to see Laurie on her lips. She had spent three days struggling to think of what she would say to him once he gave her the chance, but had had no luck in straightening out her tangle of thoughts. The only thing she knew for certain was that she could not wait another day without at least trying _something_.

When she reached the door however she was informed that both the Laurence's were out at present and unlikely to return before nightfall. They had gone to town to prepare for their forthcoming trip to Europe. They would be departing for London the following day. Jo heard each sentence with a queer detachment, the words falling like rocks into the already troubled well of her thoughts. Laurie was leaving her, almost straight away! She knew she could not let him leave with things the way they were because in her heart she knew that if he left now, her Teddy would never come back to her again. Something had fractured in the grove when she had refused him, but if she let him leave it would be altogether smashed into pieces and she could not bear it!

For the rest of the day Jo was restless, she retired to the garret and attempted to write, to let some of the roiling emotions inside of her spill out into her characters, to share some of the pain she was feeling with them. It was no use, the words would not come and her friends, usually so reliable and comforting, refused to bend to her will. Instead she fell to pacing the room, her eyes constantly flickering to the Laurence house, trying to determine if Laurie had come home yet. In the end, exhausted and her nerves frayed beyond all endurance she fell asleep amidst crumpled sheets of paper, face turned towards the window. When she woke again it was dark and there were no lights on in the house, or her own for that matter, so she had an awkward time of it in making her way slowly and with as little clumsiness as possible down to bed.

The next morning as soon as she had determined it was a decent hour, or rather that Laurie was likely to be awake, Jo scrambled across to their neighbour's house. If her hand hesitated in knocking upon the door it was only for a moment before she firmed her resolve and rapped three times. Whilst waiting for a response she hopped impatiently from one foot to the other, hands knotting in her skirts and worrying her lip between her teeth. After what seemed like an age the door opened and the servant she had spoken to only the day before was smiling pitifully at her.

"Have you come to call on Master Laurence again, Miss?" Something in the man's tone of voice stopped Jo's heart.

"Yes." The word was uttered tremulously.

"I'm afraid you've missed him, Miss." The words thudded into the silence that Jo uncharacteristically couldn't seem to find the words to fill.

"What -" she stammered eventually, "what do you mean?"

"Mr Laurence and he have already gone. They took the eight o'clock train to Boston. They're already on their way to London."

"But they can't have gone!" She cried, heedless of the propriety of her words or tone. "Not yet, I haven't spoken to Teddy and I – I so badly needed to." Her words fell to a whisper as she finished the sentence.

If the manservant was taken aback by her outburst he had the courtesy not to show it. "They left a forwarding address in London, Miss. I can give you that if it would help?"

So it was that Jo stumbled back to Orchard House, trying vainly to hold her bitter tears in check until she could reach somewhere more private, a slip of paper clutched in her hand. She had left it too late. She had left everything far too late. Too late to notice the change in Laurie's behaviour, too late to try and put a stop to his nonsense before they had reached this juncture and now, worst of all, too late to put things right again. Oh, why did she always make such a wretched mess of things?

Tumbling in through the door she ignored Marmee's enquiring call and dashed straight to her room. Shutting the door firmly she leant against it, ready for the tears to fall, but there seemed to have been a barrier formed against them. Her treacherous eyes remained dry no matter how much she wanted the pain of her loss to spill over, even if it would only lessen the feelings building up inside her a little. She may not love him the way he had wanted or enough to marry him, but she had loved her Teddy all the same and the thought of life without his comforting presence was excruciating.

With a noise that might have been a scream if it had been louder than a whisper she tore across the room, upended a wooden box that had lain by her bed, ignoring the contents as they went bouncing and spinning across her room and threw the piece of paper inside. After it went a bundle of letters Laurie had sent her from college, a pen he had given her last Christmas and a little book of poems she had borrowed from him. Anything and everything that reminded her of her friend. Jo went methodically around the room making sure that there was no sign of him left. Unfortunately she couldn't put her memories or her blasted thoughts into the box, but even as it was she had to tie it closed with a piece of string, for the lid would not remain in place otherwise. With that done she went up to the garret and hid the box in as dark and dusty a corner as she could find.

As she turned away from it she straightened her shoulders, smoothed her skirts and determined to put a brave face on the matter. If Laurie ever gave it to her she would jump at the chance to put things right between them again, but if not, as was much more likely given that he could be as stubborn as she when provoked, she would have to get on with life as best she could. She would try to learn from dear sweet Beth the lesson of smiling when others needed her to, of being sensible and steadfast, rather than wild and impetuous as she had been. She would try to be a better person. So with an expression much more cheerful than the soul grieving inside of her, Jo softly closed the garret door hoping as she did so that she would be able to shut away the part of her heart that would always and forever belong to her boy as easily.


	2. Sunlight and Showers

A/N: For clarity, when I was writing chapter one I had it in my head that the proposal happened just after Meg and John's wedding (mainly because I had just watched the 1994 film again). This is probably inexcusable considering how many times I have read the book, but there you go. I've decided I like the story this way so I'm going to stick to that particular timeline of events, _but_ Jo still went to New York _before_ the proposal as she does in the book. I have no idea when this would have been, but to be honest for this story it's irrelevant. So apologies for any confusion, but I hope you still enjoy the chapter.

Sunlight and showers

With a frustrated sigh Jo dropped her jumble of knitting in her lap with more force than was probably necessary. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn't make her creation resemble anything remotely functional and it was stubbornly refusing to be something other than a tangled knot of wool with the needles trapped inside of it. She wasn't even entirely sure what she had done wrong having begun in exactly the way Marmee had shown her countless times. However hard she tried though it just never seemed to turn out the way she wanted.

It wasn't that she particularly wanted to knit, the fact that she hadn't the patience for it was well known, but she was bored and needed something to occupy her time. She would have gone for one of her rambles in the woods, but it was raining and had been for over a fortnight now and much as she didn't mind getting wet Marmee would no doubt worry she would catch a cold or some such. Writing an epic romance or composing a dramatic poem would once have been as natural to her as breathing, but she had barely picked up a pen in over a year, not since Beth had died and it still hurt too much to contemplate.

In fact, truth be told, her writing had begun to falter before that. The night she had tried and failed to write after Laurie had proposed seemed to have blocked something off inside of her. The words just didn't seem to come as easily as they once had. That had been over two years ago now. When Beth first left them she had at first been too grief stricken to attempt beginning again and then she had been too busy caring for Marmee and Father, helping Meg with her new twins, or acting as governess to the Hadley children, to find the time to do so. Now though her parents were recovering their spirits slowly and with the Hadley's in Paris for the summer she found she had more time to herself once again. Time that she had no idea what to do with.

Mr Laurence had helped with that slightly. The old man had been lonely when he had returned from Europe without his grandson and as broken-hearted as any of the March family when Beth died so Jo had taken to spending a little time with him each week, keeping him company in that big, empty house of his. Usually she would read to him, and she was thankful that his taste in literature was somewhat more stimulating than Aunt March's had ever been, they would discuss philosophy or he would teach her to play chess. Jo had been surprised to discover that she had a knack for the game and had taken up the challenges it presented with gusto. They never spoke of Laurie, or the tearful conversation they had had the day of Meg's wedding and Jo found herself looking forward to their time together each week. Occasionally Mr Laurence would, as Beth had done before him, encourage her to take up her writing again, but Jo had determined that she wouldn't set about trying to write anything until she had something to write about, and something worthwhile rather than the penny dreadfuls that she had attempted in the past.

For reasons similar to that which deterred her from resuming her beloved writing, Jo had never returned to New York again. After the wedding she had wanted to run as far from Concord as her shoes could carry her, but with Meg married, Amy off travelling in Europe, something which Jo had to admit still rankled occasionally, she had known her place was here, helping to look after Beth whom she could see was failing at an alarming rate. At times she missed the liveliness of the city, Professor Bhaer and her other friends and the opportunities for a career in writing it had presented, but when these thoughts plagued her she suppressed the emotions studiously and they had diminished as time progressed. A lot had changed in Jo over the last two years; she was much less impetuous and wild than she once had been, her temper still sparked and could burn as hotly as ever, but it took more to stoke the fire of her anger now. That of course did not mean she was mild, lady-like and reformed, for then she would not be Jo, but time had tempered her slightly.

Another sigh slipped between Jo's lips and with a little shake she roused herself from her apathy. Never one to want to sit idle or wallow she returned the wreck of the scarf she had been trying to make to her knitting basket and made up her mind to visit Meg. It had been several days since she had seen her older sister and the walk wouldn't be far. If she took an umbrella she would escape the worst of the rain.

Slipping into her sister's kitchen a short while later, Jo's skirts began to create a puddle on the floor which Meg immediately exclaimed over and, with flour dusted across her cheeks, she began divesting her of her wet things.

"What one earth were you thinking coming to see me in weather like this?" Meg cried, neatly hanging a sodden coat by the fire as she spoke.

"Christopher Columbus!" Jo exclaimed as she wrung out her hem earning herself a reproving glance from Meg at the slang. "Well, I didn't think it would be nearly so wet as it turned out to be," she explained sitting herself by the fire and scooping up Demi on her way. As she bounced the giggling infant in her lap she adjusted her skirts so that they might dry without catching fire, she had done that once too often before. The two women began to talk comfortably about this and that as Jo entertained the children and Meg bustled about finishing her bread and beginning on a pie for supper that evening.

"I had a letter from Amy today," Meg told her, smiling as Jo blew kisses all over a squealing Demi's stomach. "She's in Florence now and apparently has been seeing a lot of Fred Vaughn again. I shouldn't think it long before we have another wedding in the family."

"Yes," Jo responded, delighting in playing with her little nephew and smiling affectionately as Daisy waddled up to share in the attention, "she said as much to Marmee in her last letter. She hadn't expected to see Fred again so soon after they left Vevey, but his following them to Italy has led her to expect a proposal."

"You don't suppose she would get married in Europe without all of us do you?" Meg asked looking up with concern as the thought struck her.

"She may," Jo mused absently, "after all Fred's family are rich and will likely want to turn it into a big society event, they can do that much more easily in London than in little Concord. And I'm sure I remember Ted-" Jo flushed beet red and stumbled over her words as Laurie's name slipped out unconsciously. From the corner of her eye she could see Meg watching with concern so she busied herself with the twins in order to hide her face, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Talking about Laurie was still painful and it wasn't something she did often. Especially in the context of a conversation about marriage. There had been times since he left that she wondered whether or not she had done the right thing in refusing him. Times when she ached as though he was a missing limb rather than an infuriating boy, times when she knew deep down that only his smile would cure of her of the loneliness that crept upon her. Then she would pull herself together and remind herself that marriage was not for her and it never had been. She had always known she would devote herself to writing and until the inspiration came along that would allow her to do so once again she would devote herself to her parents. And if at times she sobbed herself to sleep in her pillow it was done when no one could hear, and if Marmee saw her eyes red and swollen on those mornings they never spoke of it. Besides she didn't love Laurie like that.

If Meg had any thoughts about her sister's slip or her flushed face she kept them to herself, more than once she had found herself on the sharp end of Jo's tongue when trying to broach the subject and she sensed that the time was not yet right for her to do so. Meg longed to see her settled and happy, because although Jo pretended to be there were times when the mask fell and her sister could see how troubled she truly was. These occasions were becoming fewer however and Meg couldn't tell if this was because Jo was getting better at hiding her feelings or if her spirits were improving. She worried it was the former.

Jo soon composed herself and calm returned to the kitchen, or as calm as it could be with the twins shrieking as they clambered over their Aunt and she spun them about. By the time the rain had finally stopped the afternoon had nearly exhausted itself and Jo began a considerably drier walk back home. As she reached the March house her eye fell on the old postbox and a sad smile quirked at her lips. Several times she had considered taking the thing down and relegating it to the garret along with her writing things and the box she tried her hardest never to think about, but each time something had stopped her. Perhaps in her heart of hearts she hoped that there may one day be a use for it again, or perhaps taking it down would be one final confirmation, if one was needed, that Laurie was gone from her life forever.

Several days passed and with the weather resuming its normal summer hue Jo began to spend more time out of doors much to her satisfaction. Her mother, worried by the pallor that had crept into her daughter's cheeks, encouraged this whole-heartedly. Jo revelled in being able to go on her long rambles as she once had, the renewed freedom and improved weather almost making up for the fact that she now had to take them alone and there were none of the larks there had been when accompanied by Laurie and her sisters.

One particularly sunny day Jo rose early, gathered herself a book, some small things for lunch and several russets before stealing out of the house and through the woods to a quiet spot. There she stretched herself out in the bright sunshine and settled down to read the great copy of Shakespeare that Professor Bhaer had gifted her before she left New York. In the tranquillity of the grass and flowers, with birdsong echoing around her, a warm light to bask her face in and the company of trees almost as familiar to her as her own home, Jo felt content for the first time in a long while. Engrossed in the plotting and misfortunes of King Lear and his daughters, sisters unlike any she had ever known, the morning slipped by and it was quickly making its way towards evening before Jo realised she should perhaps head for home.

"Hello Marmee," she sang as she came through the door.

Mrs March glanced up at her daughter with a pleased smile, it was the most joyful she had heard her second child in a long while. "Did you have a nice day, dearest?" She asked as Jo planted a kiss on her cheek.

"It was just divinity, as Amy would say," Jo answered back. "I spent the whole day in the company of Mr Shakespeare and I must say he is a very pleasant companion."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. You're not forgetting that you promised to go to see Mr Laurence this evening are you?" She knew her daughter's tendency towards absent-mindedness when she became caught up in things even if she had improved in this respect over the years.

"I'm not Marmee, I'm looking forward to it actually. I found a capital little book of philosophical essays which I thought he might like. I'll go over directly after supper."

Jo was as good as her word, bidding her parents farewell and tripping lightly across the space between their two houses, a book tucked under her arm and a bounce in her step. Knocking smartly on the door she didn't have to wait long before a familiar servant appeared to let her in. There was something peculiar in the man's gaze as she stood in the hallway waiting for him to answer her query and tell her which room she could find Mr Laurence in. Wondering if there was something dreadfully unkempt about her appearance Jo patted uncomfortably at her skirts; her hand was half way to her hair before she realised it was the sort of gesture Amy made all the time and an ingrained antipathy for anything that might be deemed vain or affected halted the motion.

She opened her mouth to repeat her question when she suddenly heard it. A sound that had been absent from this great, cavernous house for nearly two years and she had despaired of ever hearing again. It stopped her heart and sent a shiver racing up her spine. Music. Someone was playing the piano and she had heard this particular person play enough times to know exactly who it was. She had to be sure though.

Ignoring the manservant's protestations she pushed blindly past him, hands partially outstretched, though whether to feel her way or to catch herself if her suddenly shaky legs gave way she was unsure. Following the music Jo found herself drawn towards the drawing room and paused outside the door. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest that she was sure the occupants of the room must hear it and there wasn't quite enough air in the hallway to be quite comfortable either. Taking a deep breath to try and rid herself of the pain that seemed to have settled in her chest Jo grasped at the courage slipping between her fingers before it deserted her altogether and pushed the door open.

Immediately the music broke off with a tangled chord and the two men in the room turned to face the doorway where Jo stood frozen. The alarm in the older blue eyes almost immediately turned to concern as they flickered between the two young people. He had forgotten Josephine had planned to visit that evening and had made no move to either deter her or warn either party in advance, something which he bitterly regretted now. The pianist, on the other hand, simply seemed transfixed; his dark eyes were riveted upon their intruder as though unable to tear themselves away. For her part, Jo had no idea what she should say or two. All her clever speeches and witty words had abandoned her leaving her gaping in the doorway. Her heart seemed to have taken up an abnormally erratic rhythm and her mind felt as though someone had poured molten lead into it. She had as little idea of what to say as she had the evening of that fateful day two years ago when she had marched over here.

Eventually a single word managed to rise to the surface of her foggy consciousness and slipped between her lips in a bewildered, breathless whisper. "Teddy!"


	3. Done is Done

Done is done

Teddy looked older Jo decided as she sat on the couch several minutes later. Older and thinner, but it didn't look any the worse on him, his face had just lost the last vestiges of boyish roundness. Other than a few lines around his eyes which added a sense of wisdom that she had never known her Teddy capable of possessing, he appeared hale, healthy and handsome. It was most peculiar, the latter having never been something she had consciously associated with her boy. In all the time it had taken Mr Laurence to rise and shepherd her gently towards a seat, Laurie hadn't moved an inch from his place at the piano, nor had he said anything. The silence was beginning to trouble her and as Josephine March was never one to be without words for long she soon found her tongue again.

"You look well, Teddy."

Some indefinable expression flitted briefly across his face, but it was gone so quickly that she didn't have time to get a proper handle on it. The hand still resting on the black and white keys of the piano twitched slightly. "Thank you," his voice was quiet, constrained, "so do you."

There was another pause and as Jo realised he wasn't intending to say any more she continued. "I didn't realise you were returning. Have you just gotten back from Europe?"

"Yes," Laurie was stubbornly refusing to say any more than was necessary. Jo wanted him to talk so as was his nature he used as few words as possible. "This afternoon. I wanted to surprise grandfather so I didn't send word ahead."

"Well you certainly did that, my boy," Mr Laurence agreed with a chuckle. Relieved that the two young people were talking rather than shouting at each other he had relaxed slightly, though he was still upset by their frostiness. He hoped it would thaw with time. "Now, shall I see about getting us all some refreshment? I think perhaps we could all do with something to drink. Would you like coffee Josephine? I might have something stronger myself."

Jo glanced up at him her stomach aflutter with Laurie's silent, brooding proximity. Why would he not say something? She had tried to look for signs in his face of how things were between them. Had he forgiven her? Was he still angry? Had he grown out of the feelings that had led to his proposal? Did he feel anything at all? She couldn't be sure and his expression of extreme indifference did little to reassure her. Her heart which had so carefully been patched up over the last few years began breaking afresh.

"No, thank you, Mr Laurence. I just came over to show you this book," she placed the little tome on a convenient table and tried not to show how badly her hands were trembling. "I'm sure Teddy has lots to tell you about his travels. I shan't disturb you any longer."

"You're no disturbance at all, dear girl," he protested as she got to her feet.

"I told Marmee I wouldn't be long," she fibbed, hoping that her mother would forgive her for including her name in a lie. All she wanted was to get out of the room and back home before her composure evaporated completely. Backing away as quickly as she could Jo caught her foot on a chair and stumbled several paces. Biting back words which Meg and Amy would both describe as unwomanly she almost threw herself out of the room, her eyes avoiding Laurie's inscrutable gaze all the while. Once in the relative seclusion of the hallway she broke into a run, not stopping until she had reached the sanctuary of home.

"Marmee, oh Marmee, you'll never guess, the most unimaginably dreadful thing has happened," poor Jo wailed as she careered into the room, startling her parents and beginning to pace restlessly.

Mrs March looked up with concern at her daughter's outburst, the hands which had been neatly mending another of her wayward daughter's torn dresses stilled as she feared for the worst. "Jo, dearest, what's wrong? Is Mr Laurence quite alright?"

"Yes, yes," Jo practically tore at her hair as her mind raced and her heart continued battering away against its cage. "He's well, but, oh Marmee, Teddy is back! He's come home from Europe unexpectedly. He didn't tell anyone he was coming and arrived this afternoon and I just – I just," Jo blushed as she remembered her stumbling, awkward intrusion. "I just," she swallowed the hot tears that pricked at her eyes, "I just made the most perfect fool of myself waltzing in there. If only I had known; I thought I was done getting into scrapes! Oh blast, but why am I always so rash, rushing about and never thinking?" With this last anguished question she threw herself down by the hearth, folding her arms across her knees and glaring at the fire as though it was withholding the answers to her questions. "What if he hates me?" This last question was much softer and muffled by the arm across her mouth.

Her mother, who had instantly understood the trouble from these disjointed rantings in a way that only mothers could, gave a quiet sigh. Although she had known it would never be easy for her Jo or Laurie, she had nursed the secret hope that they would have been able to get over the business of the proposal. Even after the boy had cut himself off in Europe she had retained the belief that Jo would be able to move on with her life and that if the two could never be friends as they once were then they would at least have been able to remain amicable. Life, it seemed, had different plans for them and it had not turned out that way. Afterwards poor little Jo had seemed more miserable than ever and she had not known how to comfort her. In the end she had remained as unfailingly loving and patient as ever, hoping that would be enough to see her girl through. Now as she looked at Jo, her long body all tucked in upon itself at her mother's feet Marmee felt her belief that this had been the right course waver slightly.

"What's done is done, Jo dear," she said laying a hand on her daughter's hair and speaking as much to herself as the fiery, tempestuous girl. "I would not worry about your behaviour unless you said anything improper," there was a question in her voice in response to which Jo slowly shook her head, "for Laurie knows what you are like," Marmee continued. "As to his return it need not change things for you. You shall only have to see as much of him as you choose, though I am sure you will feel more settled in your own mind if you talk to him once you have had a chance to calm yourself and gather your thoughts." Once again there was a slight pause before Jo's head bobbed up and down. "Well then," her mother counselled the same thing she had two years ago: patience. "I suggest, since you do not know Laurie's feelings on the matter yet that you wait awhile. Perhaps he will want to come and talk to you. If not then I advise that you seek him out and try to resolve the matter. Lord knows it has gone on long enough."

"And I wouldn't worry yourself about being rash and irrepressible," her father smiled kindly at her, "for you would not be our Jo otherwise."

That received a smile, which was what her father had been hoping for. "Thank you Father, and Marmee too," Jo turned away from the fire and scrambled to her feet giving each parent a peck on the cheek as she did so. "You always know the right things to say. I wish I could be as wise as you." A sigh that mingled wistfulness and exhaustion escaped Jo's lips and she rubbed at her eyes. "I think I may go up to bed now. I'm plum tired out."

So she slipped tiredly up to her room, the same thoughts circling endlessly around inside her head. She was overjoyed that Laurie had come home, but at the same time terrified as to what it might mean or what she would do if he wanted nothing more to do with her still. On top of that questions kept bubbling to the surface of her mind, clamouring for answers, only she had none. Why had Teddy returned? How did he feel about her? Did he want to talk to her? Should she? And if she did, what in all of creation was she going to say to him?

The next day Meg arrived to visit and having heard of her younger sister's plight she left the twins with their mother to dote upon them and went in search of Jo. After some time she found her curled up on the couch in the garret staring into nothingness. Once it would have been the first place she would have looked for her, but so much had changed in her sister in the past two years that it was the last room that Meg looked in.

"Meg," Jo's eyes, so pensive and troubled a moment before, lit up at the sight of her sister. "Oh Meg I'm so glad you've come, I feel in need of some sisterly company right now." She clutched at her sister's hand as she settled onto the couch next to her and began to pour out all her troubles, not only the things that had happened in the last few days, but everything she had thought and felt since Laurie had proposed then disappeared to Europe without a word.

"Dearest Jo," Meg soothed once she had finished. "Why didn't you tell us any of this, Marmee and I would have tried to help if we could."

Jo shrugged in such an unladylike way that under normal circumstances her sister would have rebuked her for it, but not today. "You were so busy being married and then Daisy and Demi came along, and then Marmee had so many other cares what with Beth…" Jo trailed off before rallying her spirits and continuing. "And I know you both would have been tremendous about the whole thing, but I didn't want to trouble you or be a burden."

"Josephine March," in her moment of uncharacteristic indignation, Meg resorted to her sister's full title, "when have you ever been a trouble to us? Well," she amended with a wry smile after a moment's thought, "you certainly wouldn't have been any more trouble than is usually the case at any rate."

Jo laughed then, a full, rich laugh that made her sides hurt and tears of an entirely different kind gather in her eyes. It was so good to finally be able to tell all of her troubles to someone and there was no one better in the world for listening than one of her sisters. If only she could tell everything so easily to Teddy then things might go a little way towards being right again between them. She said as much to Meg.

"Perhaps," Meg began cautiously, knowing that she was treading on unstable ground even as she proceeded, perhaps if you wrote down what you want to say to Laurie," she suggested, knowing that her sister had always been much more loquacious with a pen in her hand. "He need not ever see what you write, but perhaps it will help settle things in your mind."

She tilted her head prettily as she waited for Jo's thoughtful response. "Perhaps…" Jo's glance strayed to the familiar desk in the corner, unused and dusty after all this time. "Perhaps it might."

The two sisters spoke for a time longer and once Meg had left Jo cautiously approached the desk, running her hand along the worn surface as familiar to her as the face of any member of her family. Gazing at the grime left on her fingertips as she lifted them away Jo allowed her thoughts to distil slowly. Maybe Meg was right, maybe this would help; besides her fingers ached to hold a pen again. And with that one thought her mind was suddenly made up; Jo rapped her knuckles smartly against the desk and set about searching for a suitable cloth with which to clean it. In the end she made do with an old blouse they had used in theatricals that had more patches and holes left in it than any of the original garment.

That done she jammed her writing cap firmly upon her unruly head, straightened a sheet of paper in front of herself, and dipped her pen into the ink. Then she had a sudden thought and getting up she crossed to the other side of the room, rummaging around until she extracted the little wooden box she had stowed there so long ago. Returning to her desk she began to unpick the string which seemed to have been knotted with an aggressiveness she didn't recall. Eventually though, she succeeded and was able to look upon the contents with a curious mixture of pleasure and pain. Sorting through them she placed the book and pen to one side then reacquainted herself with Laurie's letters, her heart lightening just at the sight of his familiar penmanship. Once that was done she spared a glance for the crumpled piece of paper detailing an address in London that had never been used, but the real object of her attention had been the half finished letter which had rested atop the pile.

Unlike the others this had been written by Jo herself a week after Beth's death, the smudged ink still bearing witness to her silent tears and loneliness. It was difficult to read given the memories stirred up, but she made herself do it and was glad when it was done. She barely remembered writing some passages, at the time her pen had roved across the page almost independently of her thoughts. It began with an explanation of their recent bereavement, but was mostly an apology for her behaviour and a plea for him to come home, if he could. To her. To his Jo.

An ill-timed splatter of the nib had seen to it that the heartfelt appeal had been interrupted and never finished, never sent. How different would things be now if she had? The break in her ink had brought her to the realisation that she had no right to send such a request; she had forfeited all claims on Teddy's time and heart long ago. To have sent it would have been cruel and insensitive which for all her rashness was something Jo tried not to be if she could ever help it. Reading those desperate words now helped her, and gave her somewhere to begin anew.

At first inspiration was slow to come, two years of inactivity had dulled her pen, but some things can not be forgotten so easily and soon her thoughts and feelings were spilling out in a torrent. Every tangled part of her history with Laurie, their glorious friendship, the way his attentions to her had changed when he had come home from college, his proposal, her refusal, the torment she had been in ever since, not to mention the loneliness and guilt, everything flooded onto the page so quickly that she was surprised it didn't tear.

Almost unconsciously as she wrote her thoughts took form and became a character, much like herself in all but name, conversations between herself and Teddy were easier to understand if they actually happened as such. Before she was even aware of it Jo found herself telling a story as much as working through her thoughts. There was something about the familiarity of the medium that she seemed unable to avoid now that she had begun writing and in a way it helped beyond anything else she could have expected.

Marmee glanced in on her that evening and seeing the writing cap pushed far back on Jo's head, her pen flying across the paper, she smiled at the familiar old sight and quietly let her be. Jo for her part was so absorbed that she didn't even notice the intrusion. As she scribbled away writing about all the thoughts and emotions Teddy's proposal had elicited in her she contemplated what she perhaps should have said. Pausing tiredly as the candle burned low Jo rubbed at her eyes, leaving an inky smudge across her cheek as she did so. So absorbed had she been that much of what was written was a haze, a blur that would have to be sorted through in the morning as for now she was too tired. She did however glance over her last few pages and found her eyebrows rising at some of the things she had written.

_There was an intensity to Laurie_ (for she had not been able to change this name in her ramblings as yet)_ as he asked her the one question which would change everything between them that had scared her. Having hoped that her absence from his life would cure him of the notions he had carried towards her, Anne_ (for so she had named 'herself') _was dismayed that he now proposed so drastic a step. It hadn't been how she had planned things to turn out at all. What Laurie needed was someone refined and elegant and she told him as much. What her jumble of thoughts did not convey was if he was to marry Anne they would have the most tremendous quarrels which would, like as not, completely destroy their friendship. This was something she just would never have been able to stand._ (But it had happened all the same, Jo thought sadly.)

_No the woman that Laurie should wed would be beautiful, steadfast and even tempered to counter Teddy's own tempestuous nature. She would be the toast of society and never embarrass him; she would have a, love for music, perhaps she would even be an accomplished violinist or harpist and she would be interested in literature without any troublesome ambitions towards being an authoress._

As Jo read she was surprised at her reference to being scared by Teddy, it was not something she had given full thought to at the time, but now that she had written it she knew it to be true. What was more obvious from her perusal of the last passage was the uncomfortable sensation it planted in the pit of her stomach. If she hadn't known better she would have said it was jealousy, but that was absurd, she was reading about a fictional woman that she herself had composed on the page. It wasn't that she was jealous of the woman herself, after all Jo knew she would be profoundly bored by such an existence and she had no desire to ever be so good or so content with just being a wife or ornament to society even if she had the attributes necessary to achieve it. No what made her bristle with irrational envy was the knowledge that one day this woman, or another very like her, would come along to sweep Laurie off his feet. He would marry and his new wife would become the most important woman in the world to him. _She_ would become his best friend, leaving Jo to… to what exactly? She considered the question. It wasn't as though she and Teddy were on the best of terms at present, but even still she wasn't sure if she could stand to see someone else take her place.

The realisation made her start. Of course the notion that she herself could love and marry Laurie was still as absurd as it had ever been; Josephine March would never marry. But the revelation that this was how she truly felt about it, moreover the knowledge that she had no way or right to prevent such an eventuality tore at her heart a little. Why did people have to grow up so? Still the exercise had helped as Meg suggested it would, her mind felt clearer than it had all day and even if she wasn't certain of exactly what she would say to Laurie next time she saw him and least she knew a little more of what she felt in her own mind.

A/N: So now I've started this story just won't seem to leave me alone. It turns out sitting up writing late into the night leads to quite a few errors! I hope I managed to find them all and fix them. Please review to let me know if you liked it!


	4. Almost Anything

Disclaimer: Last time I checked I was not Lousia May Alcott

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Almost Anything

Jo didn't have to wait long for her conversation with Laurie although she would have liked a little more warning and time to prepare before hand. It was the following afternoon, Marmee had taken some old things of the girls to several needy families and Father was resting so Jo was once again left to her own devices. She had spent the morning scribbling again, but was now hankering after some of the wonderful sunshine beaming in through the garret window. So, stretching fingers that had been cramped around a pen for hours on end, she took herself off to the woods for a walk.

Whether it was the amount she had been thinking about it the last few days or not she was unsure, but with very little input on her part she soon found her feet making their way towards the grove. She hadn't been back since the day Teddy proposed and as she got closer the pensive, tight feeling returned to her chest, but she made herself continue. It was exactly the way she remembered it although she wasn't entirely sure how she thought it might have changed. Perhaps in her minds eye it would have been festooned with cobwebs after all this time or have become an overgrown thicket, but it was the same bright, sunny spot it had been on the afternoon Laurie had asked her to marry him.

Laurie. She heard him coming before she saw him, crunching across the forest floor behind her in slow, cautious steps. She stayed where she was, frozen with one hand resting atop the fence post, fearful to turn round lest she was imagining things and he would vanish in a puff of smoke. Even when she heard the footsteps stop at the edge of the clearing and his quiet, steady breathing she remained fixed in place. Her heart had begun to speed again.

"Hello Jo," he said after allowing the interminable silence to stretch for as long as either could bear.

It seemed to take an age for her to turn, her limbs felt so wooden and stiff, almost as though she was becoming a part of the fence post. She managed it somehow in the end and then there he was, her Teddy, but with that careful expression on his face so that she couldn't tell any of what he was thinking. He was standing where the ground sloped upwards slightly, hands casually resting in his pockets and eyes fixed intently on her face.

"Hello Teddy." Her mouth felt suddenly dry.

"I thought I'd find you here, you always did like this place." The lightness in his voice was forced, that much she could tell; she just wished she knew what it was masking.

"Actually I haven't been here in… two years," she ended on a whisper her cheeks flushing as she spoke.

His eyebrows rose at that, but he made no comment. Instead the pause between them stretched out, in grave danger of becoming a silence. Jo racked her brains for a way to begin, a place to start, but Teddy beat her to it. "I heard about Beth," his voice showed the first real trace of emotion in her presence since he had returned. "I'm sorry."

"She's at peace now," was all Jo would say on the subject. It was best to limit this conversation to one painful topic at a time. "I was going to write to you afterwards," she admitted suddenly unable to meet his eyes, "I just couldn't post the letter. Did your grandfather write you?"

"He did. He wrote a lot about you – all actually." Had she imagined the pause between his words there? "But I already knew; I was with Amy in Vevey when she got the news you see."

Jo felt the air suddenly sucked from her lungs. That had hurt; he perhaps hadn't meant it to, but it had all the same. She wasn't sure which part of the revelation upset her more: the fact that Amy had seen Laurie in Europe and not written her about it, or the fact that he had been comforting her sister when she had so desperately needed him here. Either way it ignited a little spark of anger inside of her that gave her the courage to question him.

"You saw Amy in Europe? She never said."

"Yes." The nonchalance had returned to his tone and if this had been the old days, when they had delighted in teasing each other and had marvellous times doing so, she would have suspected him of trying to rouse her temper, but she doubted that was his aim now. "I was in Vevey for quite a number of months, so we saw a lot of each other then. Did she tell you Fred Vaughn was there? It was around the same time."

Amy had and Jo knew that at the same time her younger sister had been prevaricating over whether or not to allow him to court her. Suddenly a thought struck Jo so completely out of the blue that it took her by surprise. She had always suspected that Amy held a candle for Laurie, she had idolised him as a child and her assertion that she would marry a rich man would certainly only deepen any existing attraction. What if Laurie had been the reason for Amy's initial reticence towards Fred? Her hurt of a few moments before returned with full force and some of it must have shown on her face because Laurie was frowning at her now. She tried to smooth her expression still clutching the post for support.

"And did you enjoy it?" she asked.

"Amy's company or Europe?" he replied, just a hint of the old Teddy in his response.

"Either," Jo snapped back, "both."

"Each were as delightful as I expected them to be," the hint of a smirk that had graced his face at her cross response vanished as he delivered one last comment, "under the circumstances."

Jo felt a little tremble at his words. So they had arrived at it at last had they? The topic both of them had been skirting around since the conversation started. His proposal. Summoning up the courage to speak and praying that all her carefully thought out reasonings would not desert her Jo looked at him with frank eyes. "I did want to try and put things right between us Teddy, truly I did. I came round to have it out with you, but you weren't home and then you were gone."

"I wouldn't worry yourself about it Jo, you made yourself perfectly clear the first time around."

"But that's just it!" She cried, now that she had started she found herself unable to stop and the words began tumbling out so quickly that she could barely keep up with them. It was as though someone had suddenly knocked a hole in the dam that she had built over her emotions which became wider the more she spoke. "I didn't make myself clear, not in the slightest. There were so many things I wanted to say to you and explain, half of the things I was feeling I didn't even realise myself until long after and by then it was too late, you had gone to Europe and Beth was so ill and then after that… well it doesn't matter now, and you hated me anyway."

"I didn't hate you," Laurie had taken an unconscious step forward as Jo spoke and his voice was quiet as he as he said the four words that brought her ramble stumbling to a halt.

"You didn't?" Surprise, hope and confusion warred in her voice.

"Well, maybe a little at first, or at least I thought I did," some of the carelessness seemed to have gone from his voice, "but not really. I could never truly hate you Jo, but you broke my heart and I was angry. I was angry for a long while."

"Oh." She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, instead she opted for another question. "And are you still angry now?"

"No." There was another pause then: "I really am -"

"What did you -?" Jo blurted at exactly the same moment, smiling ruefully as they both stopped mid sentence. "I'm sorry Teddy, you go first, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to apologise."

Jo brow crinkled in confusion. "What on earth for?"

"I may have been angry, but I had no right to treat you as I did. I realise that now. It was childish of me to storm away from you like that and then run off to Europe without at least saying goodbye." He managed to look suitably contrite enough that Jo knew he meant it. It also gave her the confidence to adopt something of her old manner with him.

"Oh, don't be such a martyr Teddy, if anyone's to blame for the whole sorry fiasco it's me, and I'm not going to argue with you about it." That got a chuckle out of him.

"My, my," he spoke quietly, almost to himself, "Josephine March refusing to argue. Have I really been gone that long?"

"Too long." The words slipped out before she could stop them and suddenly Teddy's eyes were intent again, almost as though they were trying to see into her soul. Blast her treacherous tongue again!

Laurie didn't say anything about it though, however much it might have made him look as though he wanted to. Instead he returned to their original topic. "So what were you going to say then?"

"I was…" her admission and the way he was looking at her now suddenly made it much more difficult to say. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. "I was going to ask what you had wanted to talk about. You said you thought I'd be here, so was there something…?"

Eventually Laurie looked away from her again which seemed to help tremendously with the regularity of her breathing. He glanced down, removed his hands from his pockets, seemed to know not quite what to do with them and then replaced them where they had been before. He paced across to a new position just to her left, and if this brought him closer to Jo then she was too intent on waiting for his answer to notice. "It was mostly to apologise really. I was abominably rude the other night too. I knew when I returned to Concord that I wanted to talk to you, but you took me by surprise and I hadn't the manners to right myself. Can you forgive me?"

She laughed at that, swinging her body slightly away from him as she still held onto the post in an effort to add a certain carelessness to her words despite the fact that she meant every one. "Oh Teddy, you know I'd forgive you almost anything."

"_Almost_ anything?" He queried.

"Well," some of the old mischievous glint had returned to her eye, "I'm still not entirely sure you're forgiven for the time you put salt in my tea instead of sugar." She found herself caught between trying to make things right with Teddy and not wanting to give him the wrong idea of her intentions and was trying desperately to lighten the situation. It worked in so far as he didn't say anything either of them might regret, but then he didn't say anything at all. After smiling a little at this reminder of the past they both lapsed back into an awkward silence.

Searching for something else to say Jo enquired as to how Amy had been getting along last time he had seen her, it was a fairly innocuous question, but also one that let her dig a little deeper into her theory.

"She was well," he replied with a smile that could have meant any of a hundred things. "I think she had come to terms with the news about Beth by the time I had left her. I'm sure she's told you in her letters how much she loves France; she had made lots of friends in her art lessons and has a string of fellows chasing after her wherever she goes, although she's far too sensible to take most of them seriously. She talked a lot about Freddie Vaughn, she seemed a little smitten. I think they may make a good match."

Well, that put paid to that theory, Jo thought with something almost, but most definitely not, like relief. She relaxed slightly for the first time since Laurie had appeared and perhaps he sensed it because the next thing she knew he was speaking in that serious tone once more.

"I have missed you Jo."

She froze again, this was definitely dangerous territory for them to be treading, especially when they were only just speaking to each other. "Teddy," she protested in a warning tone.

"I've missed you calling me that too, no one else does," he continued ignoring her.

Jo chanced a glance at him through her eyelashes. Really he was incorrigible sometimes! She was pleased that he hadn't changed in that respect really, but could he not find some other way to express it than in saying things which were frightfully close to being sentimental? She wanted so desperately to be friends with him again, although she knew it may never be as it once was, but to do that they needed to get everything out in the open. How far would she go to preserve their friendship, how much would she let him say? She still couldn't tell whether or not his feelings for her had returned to friendship or if they were still something more. If he did have romantic inclinations towards her still, would she be able to break his heart a second time? Now that she had seen how appallingly unbearable life was without him, what would she do to keep him in hers? Jo didn't know and that terrified her almost as much as his tone.

Trying a different tack she tried to turn to safer topics. "Did your grandfather call you back to deal with the business? He mentioned to me not long ago that he was in need of a new manager here." She was only telling a slight falsehood for Mr Laurence never spoke of his business to her; he had actually been talking to John at the time and Jo had happened to hear what they were discussing, but Laurie needn't know that.

"Yes, he told me that himself only yesterday and now that I've learned the ropes in London he wants me to take over much of the work here. But no, that's not why I came back Jo." Serious eyes watched her face for the slightest reaction.

"Then why?" Her whisper was fearful.

"Drat it all Jo!" She started at Laurie's sudden, frustrated exclamation, "you're enough to drive a fellow to distraction. Why did I come back? I should have thought it obvious enough. I'm still desperately and hopelessly in love with you that's why and I fear I always will be!"

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A/N: Well there it is, he's gone and said it now. Poor Jo, she really doesn't know what she thinks. Poor Teddy, he has to put up with her! I'm almost enjoying making them suffer though… just for a little longer. Please leave comments, reviews, replies and responses so I know what you think and thank you for all the lovely ones I've had so far it's very encouraging!


	5. Right or Left?

Disclaimer: If I was Louisa May Alcott, I would be getting money for this and this scene would have happened in the book. Sadly neither are true.

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Right or Left?

They were both a little breathless, each pair of dark eyes locked on the other's, flushed and emotions battling it out across their faces. Eventually Jo was the first to speak.

"Oh." Her voice sounded a little squeaky in her own ears. "I thought your feelings might have changed."

"I thought perhaps maybe yours had."

She was silent, unsure of what to say. Perhaps she should have said something, anything to fill the gap, because although some measure of caution had returned to Laurie's face after his initial outburst he was desperately trying not to let hope blossom within him. Failing miserably he seized on her apparent indecision.

"Have they Jo?"

"I…" She paused and then realized how her response must seem to him. "No, Teddy I'm not trying to say that, I should have… What I mean to say is…" She floundered before looking down at her feet. "I'm not sure what I feel anymore," she told her shoes. "I thought I knew, I had it all in my head, but it keeps getting so muddled. I know…" she hesitated and then reminded herself that she was endeavouring to be honest. "I know I don't want to lose you again. Oh, Teddy I've hardly been able to bear the last two years without you here. I miss our larks and the fun we used to have. You were my best friend and I felt like my arm had been chopped off." This was all said in a rush and when she was done she was afraid to look up again; afraid to see what damage her admission had doubtless done now.

Instead Laurie gave a curious response. "Am I your left arm or your right?"

"What?" Bewilderment finally made her glance up to see his gently teasing smile.

"Well I need to know whether or not I'm the arm you write with or not, so I can see how much I mean to you."

She couldn't help it, Teddy had always made her laugh so much in the past that no matter how hard she tried to stop herself this time a little smile still managed to slip past her guard. He was soon serious again though.

"But Jo, do you not see that love is exactly that? It means not being able to live without the other person, needing them more than anyone else in the whole world, no matter how much they might drive you to distraction sometimes." His laughter was bitter now.

"I know Teddy, dearest, and I do love you, I said so before, just not in the way you want me to. I can't marry you Teddy."

"Can't or won't?" He was becoming belligerent again, she could see it in the set of his jaw and the steely glint that had entered his eye.

"Don't say it like that Teddy. You know I'd do anything for you if I could – And please, please, don't ask me again dearest. I don't know if I could refuse you a second time, but I know you'd never be happy unless I married you for the right reasons… Please don't," she pled imploringly.

It crossed Laurie's mind to tell her that he would take her any way he could have her if only she would be his wife. Two years without Jo in Europe had been torture for him, even more so knowing that she didn't care for him in the way he wished. Now that they were here together again, alone, he wondered which caused him the greatest pain: having to hear her say no again or being at the opposite side of the world? He kept his thought to himself for now.

Taking a step towards the fence Laurie leant against it in the same manner as Jo was doing, the two of them staring out miserably into the trees around them. He was careful to keep a significant distance between them though; a perverse corner of his mind was revelling in having her so close again despite the hurt it caused him and he didn't want to do anything that might cause her to take flight. He sensed she was close to doing so. Nevertheless there were things that had to be said. Some instinctive part of him whispered that although Jo claimed not love him as he wanted, she did not love him as she once had either. It wasn't a lessening of affection simply a shift in angle and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise he couldn't help but hope that with a little nudge in the right direction it might become something more.

"I tried to stop loving you, you know," he told her after several minutes of listening to birdsong that clashed terribly with his sombre mood. "You've no idea how hard I tried. I tried to convince myself that it had all been because I had always wanted to be part of the March family so badly that I had fooled myself into thinking I loved you, or that you loved me. I even asked Amy to marry me, just to prove it."

"You did not!" Jo exclaimed, shocked from her silence by this horrendous notion. "You couldn't; how could you?!"

"I did," he responded coolly watching her carefully from the corner of his eye.

Jo blanched, turned very pale and then just as quickly the colour rushed back into her face again with some to spare. For a reason she couldn't quite fathom the thought of Laurie and Amy married was too appalling to contemplate. Part of the reason for this she suspected was that Amy so perfectly fitted the description of Laurie's wife Jo had conjured up the previous day. Accomplished, beautiful, poised and to top it off, socially acceptable. It was worse than that though, if Laurie married her youngest sister she would always be there reminding Jo of what she had given up. If some anonymous woman replaced her in Teddy's affections then she could, perhaps with time, manage to survive, but to have it paraded in her face every day… Suddenly a new thought, much more terrible than the last, struck Jo. A thought connected to her earlier suspicions.

"She didn't accept, did she?"

Cruel as he felt Jo had been to him, for all he knew that she thought she was being honest, Laurie couldn't help but be a little that way in return, so he neatly sidestepped the question. "Would you mind very much if she had?"

Taken aback by the question Jo's mouth dropped open into a perfect _O_ as she scrambled about inside her head for a suitable response. She couldn't say that these had been the exact thoughts circling around in her head even though it was true, it would just be too embarrassing and complicated an admission. And it was mischievous of Teddy to even ask. Really she could just fly at that boy sometimes! She also wasn't entirely sure what he wanted her to say, his mood seemed to be jumping between sober, teasing and frustrated so quickly that she was set in a spin just trying to keep up with him.

"Don't ask such nonsensical questions, Teddy," she snapped, turning to face him with her hands planted squarely on her hips.

It seemed that two years away had not stopped him from being able to read her as well, if not better, than any book. "Don't dodge, Jo, and give a fellow an honest answer. Aren't I at least worth that?"

An appeal to her already guilt-ridden conscience served to rile Jo up further and the fact that he was right only made it worse.

"Yes, then if you must know. I would have. And don't worm any conclusions of your own from that Teddy, I can see you doing it already. It means I find the thought of you marrying Amy peculiar and nothing more. Christopher Columbus! But you're like brother and sister; you've known each other since you were children!"

"So have we." He didn't sound angry anymore, but his words had a quiet force behind them nonetheless.

Jo wasn't entirely sure how this was meant to bolster his argument, but she didn't say so as she wasn't sure where such a comment might lead. Instead she repeated her earlier question. "So are you to be married then? Should I be offering congratulations?"

"Good grief Jo!" He actually laughed at that although she couldn't see what in the world was so infernally funny. "Do you really believe that had I asked your sister to marry me, and she had been foolish enough to accept me, that I would have come directly back here and declare my undying love to you? What sort of fellow do you think I am?"

Through her annoyance at his taunting Jo felt her heart give a little skip at this news, at any rate it felt a little lighter than it had moments before. She was still so vexed by his teasing however that she pushed the emotion aside for the moment and continued stiffly. "Well what did she say then?"

"Amy's no fool; she could see right off that I wasn't really in earnest even if I had worked hard to convince myself that I was. She said I was too much a gentleman to want to marry a girl just for her family and that I was just saying it because I was sore. Apparently it was blindingly obvious to everyone, but you that I was head over heels from the minute we met and that the two of us were made for each other. Then she told me to come back and try again. So here I am, trying again."

Jo sniffed. "Amy did always have too many romantic notions than was strictly good for her. It's all those stories she read as a child." She suddenly found the material of her skirt very interesting and began fiddling with it intently.

"Well you should know, seeing as you wrote most of them," Laurie informed her. "Perhaps that's precisely the problem though Jo. You've written so many romances and your characters make such absurdly dramatic declarations that you expect real life to look like that, but it doesn't. This is what it looks like," he gestured at the space between them, "and if you would just stop for a moment and consider the possibility then perhaps you would see it for yourself."

She had nothing to say to that, so she pouted and said petulantly: "My characters are not absurd!"

This time however Laurie refused to let her evade the issue any longer and with a suddenly fierce expression on his face he took a step forward and cupped her cheek with one hand. "Please dearest; just consider it. That's all I ask."

Jo jerked away from his touch as though she had been stung and, cheek burning where his hand had rested so fleetingly, she took several stumbling steps away from him shaking her head in a bewildered kind of panic. Spinning on her heel she had barely taken three more steps when he called out.

"Don't run away from me, Jo." His voice was perfectly calm and accompanied by the slow crunching of his shoes as he closed the gap between them once more.

The air seemed to have vanished from her lungs again, and with them had gone any ability to move despite her desperate desire to put some distance between them. Her heart was thundering so loudly that it was a wonder she could hear anything else at all over the racket of it, certainly Teddy must be able to hear it. Why would the silly thing not quiet down? How in the world was a girl supposed to think with the dratted thing drowning out thoughts that were already being so inhospitably unmanageable?

He really was far too close now she realised, still unable to move. She could feel the heat of him against her back, through her dress, feel his intent eyes upon her blazing cheek, which was slightly turned toward him. A tremble ran across her skin as he moved, she thought perhaps he had reached out a hand to her arm, but then thought better of it. She daren't turn round to find out.

"What are you so afraid of old girl?" His breath tickled the skin behind her ear as he whispered the question. The sensation stopped her ability to think altogether, even the dazed swarm of thoughts, buzzing about inside her head seemed to have vanished. The only thing she could concentrate on was Teddy, the closeness of him; she was barely even aware of her own whispered response when it slipped out of its own volition.

"You."

And then Josephine March who had never run from anything in her life before, took to her heels and fled for home.

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A/N: I'm not very well acquainted with writing scenes of tortured romance so please let me know how you think this one went. See that box there, yes that one right there, the one you know you really want to write in that says _Review _on it? Go on, please do!


	6. Sore Feet, Bruised Hearts

Disclaimer: If you happen to think I may be LMA or that this is for profit not fun, you may need your head examined

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Sore Feet, Bruised Hearts

Theodore Laurence sat at the piano, surrounded by sheets of music which in their turn were littered with his scribblings and notations, but he wasn't playing. He wasn't even paying them the slightest notice. As he had on so many occasions over years past he was staring out of the window towards the March family home and had been for a good hour now hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain infuriating authoress.

Since their fraught talk in the grove nearly a week ago now nary a word had passed between the two, but this wasn't from a lack of desire for them to do so on Laurie's part. Despite the fact that Jo had run away from him their conversation had resolutely convinced him of one thing. Despite all her protestations to the contrary Jo March did love him or would, she certainly could if only she let herself. For all that she affirmed her feelings hadn't changed a jot, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she became flustered around him, the way she had reacted when he stood behind her, so close that if he shut his eyes and remembered it he could still smell her hair and feel the heat of her body. The knowledge had made his heart lighter than it had been in two years, but it also made this interminable waiting excruciating.

He had wanted to strike whilst the proverbial iron was hot, to seek Jo out as soon as possible and make her admit or at least realise that her feelings for him went beyond friendly affection. However, in an uncharacteristic moment of caution he had sought his grandfather's counsel on the matter. By all accounts he had spent much time with Jo over the last two years and would doubtless know something of her mind. Certainly, as he had almost told Jo, his grandfather's letters had been full of snippets of information about her. Only a few at first, but when Laurie didn't seem to object they had begun to increase in number. At first the younger Laurence had read these with renewed frustration, when he read them at all and did not simply tear them up, resigning them to the flames. Over time, and especially after the thorough scolding which Amy had delivered, he had begun to cling to them. Each one read with all the fervent passion he had been repressing for years.

In the end the old man had turned out to be surprisingly helpful, suggesting Laurie gave the object of his affections some time to adjust to his return. After all, as his grandfather had pointed out, if Josephine March felt she was being pushed into something she was just as likely to rebel against it out of spite as anything else.

So he was stuck in this limbo, waiting to catch a glimpse of her through his window and trying to distract himself unsuccessfully with concertos.

Up in the garret of Orchard House, tucked away in a corner where the outside world could not see her, Jo sat at her desk attempting to continue her story. Rather than burning however, genius seemed to have been reduced to a flickering candle and her scribbling cap had been cast onto the floor in temper hours ago. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get this part of the tale quite right. She was rewriting the scene where Laurie, now unceremoniously renamed Roger just so she didn't have to keep repeating her friend's name, proposed to Anne, but the characters refused to obey her. She was unlikely to ever forget precisely what she and Teddy had said to each other that day, but whenever she tried to put the words into the mouths of her characters they twisted, the meaning came out wrongly, or just didn't sit with the rest of the scene. It was utterly impossible.

As she leant back in the seat, Jo found her gaze drawn inextricably towards the window and with a frustrated toss of her head she forced herself to glance away again. Outside there was nothing but the Laurence's house and Teddy watching her from his window. She had managed to catch him at it once or twice, although she was unsure if he had noticed, and it only renewed her determination to stay inside.

If Jo was honest with herself, which she wasn't, she might have admitted that part of the reason she had stayed so long in the garret was because she was hiding, from Teddy, from Marmee and her sympathy, from Meg and her understanding smile, from everyone. They were all trying to be so kind and all she could do was rage and worry by turn.

For what had seemed like hours after she had run from Teddy in the grove she had stormed from one end of the garret to the other, muttering dire threats under her breath, calling Teddy every abominable name she could think of, even going so far as to hurl an old lamp across the room in her temper. Later she had sobbed over the pieces as she swept up the mess, lamenting over the smashed fragments as though they were her friendship with Teddy itself. She wasn't even sure why she was angry anymore, whether it was because after finally having come back to her Teddy had gone and upset things again, or because he had asked Amy to marry him, or if it was even Teddy she was really angry at. Sometimes she was just angry with herself, for the way she had acted, for allowing him to get to her in such a way, for caring so much.

She knew her behaviour was causing her parents concern, they had tried leaving her alone, had tried talking to her about the mess she found herself rather precariously stranded in the middle of, they had tried encouraging her out into the world and goodness only knew how many cakes and pies poor Hannah had baked to entice her down. Most of them had ended up on the Hummel's dinner table. In the end they had asked for Meg's help, and so she had arrived one afternoon in the garret, a profusion of pale fabric and blue ribbon trailing from her arms.

"Jo," Meg was more severe with her sister than she ever had been with her children, "staying up here forever is impractical as well as silly, and I _know_ you aren't scribbling away as profitably as you claim. That piece of paper over there has more crossings out on it than sense now. You need something to take you out of yourself for a time. Sallie Moffat is having a little garden party this evening, nothing too formal so you needn't fret, and as John is away at present you can accompany me to that." She spoke with the sort of impulsive finality usually more characteristic of Jo than her quiet, refined older sister, and no matter how much the former protested and railed against the idea there was nothing she could do to change her mind about it. Even Marmee, who secretly agreed her harum-scarum daughter required a distraction, could not be prevailed upon to disapprove of the scheme.

And so it was that after dinner Jo found herself trussed up in her nicest, most respectable and least ink-splattered dress, bound for the Moffat's and trying, at Meg's insistence, to get as little dust on her hem as possible. She was failing miserably.

"Do try and be sociable, won't you dearest?" Meg asked earnestly as they approached Sallie's home. "And try to have some fun; don't slouch, or use awful slang, or -"

"I'll be the model of respectability if only you won't go on so," Jo cut in. "You sound exactly like Amy. I am not a child any more; there is no need for me to be reminded all the time!"

"And don't lose your temper with anyone," was the only reply she received.

Sallie Moffat was the perfect hostess welcoming Jo into her home as though it had been mere days since she had last seen her and not several years. If she was a little surprised to see the second March sister then she had the good grace not to show it. Instead she led them through to the garden at the rear of the house, complimenting Jo's dress and asking Meg all the proper and attentive questions one asks a mother with two infant children. Sallie herself had a small daughter and the two exchanged notes on the challenges of child rearing as they entered the garden.

"Now, Ned here they are," she trilled to her husband. "Ladies, please take a seat and I'll arrange for some refreshment. I'm sure you know everybody here. Meg, I know you do. Josephine, do you know the Rushmore's? Robert's father and mine are in business together. Annie of course you know, these are the Gilmour's, Harriet and Eliza Lincoln…"

Jo found herself lost amidst the list of people and names, only half of whom she recognized and only half of them again with anything approaching familiarity. There were far more people at the party than she had anticipated and she was thankful she only had to concentrate on a small number at present. She was further distracted when a maid offered her a glass of lemonade.

"…and of course Mr Laurence needs no introduction."

Jo's hand froze half-way to the glass oblivious to the continuation of Sallie's incessant speech. Forcing herself to complete the motion she carefully turned back to the party seated at a large, round lawn-table. Slowly, so as not to upset the glass with hands that now seemed to be trembling she placed it on the white tablecloth, gleaming in its brilliance, and raised her eyes to the assembled group. She hadn't given them much countenance before, they were after all friends of Meg's and even then only by association and she needn't have much to do with them in future. Now she swept her eyes around until she found him.

Laurie was seated four places to her left, eyes fixed on Jo's face and the most curious expression in them. As she met his eyes the corner of his mouth lifted into a slight smile before he nodded once then glanced away, engaging Ned Moffat and Eliza Lincoln in conversation. The latter seemed all too pleased with the seating arrangements for Jo's liking and kept batting her eyelashes at the dark haired young man next to her in a manner that, quite frankly, looked ridiculous.

What in the blazes was Teddy doing here? Jo's furious gaze swung round to her sister, attempting to determine if she had known about this in advance. The horror on Meg's face as her eyes flitted from Jo to Laurie and back again, coupled with the pleading squeeze of her hand under cover of the table, told her she hadn't, but it only served to mollify Jo slightly. Of all the cursed bad luck! For over two years she had so desperately wished for Teddy to come back, but now that he had, with his ridiculous notions in tow, he seemed to be every which way she turned. It just served to prove Marmee right when she said: be careful what you wish for.

If Jo hadn't held such strong opinions against gambling she would have bet on the fact that Laurie was only here to vex her, it was just the sort of prank he would be likely to pull. Well, if he was trying to make her uncomfortable she would just have to show him! For the rest of the party Jo endeavoured to be as pleasant and as charming a guest as she could, achieving it with a perfection Amy would never have believed possible had she been there to see.

Whenever she thought he wasn't looking Jo would sneak a glance in Laurie's direction, but far from being put out by her ignoring him, he seemed to be going about exactly the same exercise with as much, if not more, enthusiasm. He was attentive to every woman in the garden, except her, laughed and joked with them all, except her, and employed his considerable charm with every single one, except her. He had never so much as looked at Jo once after that first smile. It was enough to drive a girl to… well to what? To jealousy?

Taking a break from her relentless socialising Jo slipped into the Moffat's house and found a quiet spot to sit and rub her aching feet. She didn't know how people managed to do this so endlessly. Circling the garden, forcing conversation about inane topics, gossiping and pretending she knew anything of the latest fashions was exhausting. Tucked up by a window and shielded from those outside by a thick, hanging curtain, Jo was able to use the momentary peace to her advantage. Mostly to spy on Teddy without him seeing.

She also used the time to analyse her feelings. She had disliked the idea of Laurie marrying Amy, but there had been a perfectly valid explanation for that, hadn't there? It was unreasonable to expect her to be overjoyed at the prospect of her erstwhile best friend marrying her little sister. That didn't explain why it irked her so much just to see him having fun at this party. Perhaps that was it? Perhaps it was just because, for all Jo appeared to be having a wonderful time, it was all an act. Her feet ached, her back was sore, her head hurt with constant chatter and her temper was ruffled with the incessant giggling of Annie Moffat and her friends… Simply put Jo wasn't in the best of humours. That had to be why she was so annoyed at Teddy.

Except it wasn't, and deep down she knew it; only an alternate reason for her grumpy mood was too scary to contemplate. She wasn't ready yet and that had been part of the reason for her running out on Laurie in the grove. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of, examining the tight knot of feelings that seemed to have settled in her stomach and finding that there was something there, or unpacking them all to discover that what she had said to Laurie was true, she did still only regard him as a friend. If her current irritation with him _was_ jealousy then perhaps… Jo shook her head to dispel such thoughts; she was just being ridiculous.

So she continued to watch the party. Lanterns had been lit to illuminate the garden and the well-dressed young people flitting between the pools of light appeared almost like spirits or fairies from a dream. Meg was still chattering gaily to several of her friends, looking more like the youthful girl she had been rather than a mother with many responsibilities on her young shoulders. Laurie was… Jo's eyes scanned the party until she picked him out again. Laurie was laughing with the Rushmore's and Eliza Lincoln again. As she watched him though, the entire group suddenly looked up in puzzlement.

It began with one drop, then another, followed by a third before suddenly the heaven's opened and the rain came crashing down upon the party. Everyone began frantically rushing inside, trying to protect their expensive clothes and perfectly coiffed hair from the elements whilst servants scrambled to keep the food and furniture from getting spoiled. As people began milling about in the hall, slightly damp, but for the most part in excitable spirits due to such an unexpected development, Jo slipped out from her hiding place and mingled amongst them trying to locate Meg. After a few moments of searching she located her sister at the bottom of an impressive flight of stairs.

"We're going to have to get home somehow," Meg said to her in hushed tones, casting a doubtful eye out towards the pouring rain. "It's getting late anyway and I promised Marmee to have you home at a respectable hour. I need to get back to Demi and Daisy too. Hannah is perfectly capable, but they won't settle if I'm not there."

"Well, I don't mind tramping home in the wet," Jo informed her, "but you will probably catch your death. Not to mention ruin your lovely dress." She might not care a whit for her own looks, but she could still appreciate nice things in others, especially her sisters.

Unfortunately Sallie Moffat had been nearby and overheard their conversation. "Oh, I won't hear of you walking all the way home in such a storm. But fiddlesticks! I only just told Harriet and Eliza that they could borrow our carriage to get home in since they live so far away, more is the pity, or I would have sent you home in that." Their hostess wrung her hands prettily and cast about for a solution. "It doesn't appear to be letting up any time soon; you are welcome to stay for the night, I can arrange to have some of the guest rooms made up."

Meg appeared torn; clearly wanting to go home to her children, but reluctant to go out in such appalling conditions. Jo resolved to follow her lead, for once managing to hold her tongue in her head. Unfortunately help, if such it could be called, came from an entirely unwanted quarter.

"Ladies, apologies for my interruption, but I couldn't help from overhearing your predicament. You are more than welcome to take a ride home in my carriage since I'm going your way after all."

Jo swung round and glared suspiciously at Laurie as he appeared suddenly at her elbow. He had probably been listening in! She was just about to tell him that they were most definitely not in need of his assistance when she remembered Meg and her decision of only moments ago to defer to her older sister. With a last furious glare at Laurie she turned back just as Sallie was waxing effusive about such a happy and fortuitous resolution to their troubles.

Meg was regarding her worriedly, trying to read Jo's face for any sort of reaction. She knew a great deal of what had gone on between the two of them and didn't want to make Jo's predicament any more awkward than necessary, but she did so want to get home to her babies and at the same time it would be the height of rudeness to refuse. Jo was just coming to the same conclusion. She couldn't very well rebuff Laurie's offer without making herself, and more importantly her sister, look an utter goose in front of Sallie.

With a reassuring smile to Meg, that didn't quite reach her eyes, she communicated to her sister that it was alright.

"Very well, Laurie," Meg smiled gratefully at him and with only a touch of trepidation, "a ride home would be lovely. Thank you."

Laurie grinned triumphantly and Jo flashed him another scowl.

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A/N: First off I'd like to clarify that I have nothing against anyone called Roger, I'm sure they're perfectly splendid additions to the human race, it was just the first name that popped into my head! Secondly I'd like to dedicate this chapter to anyone who has ever been stuck at a social function with an ex or someone they have feelings for and felt indescribably awkward. So to you and to the Rogers of the world, I dedicate this chapter. (Oh, and also to everyone who has written me such lovely reviews so far!)


	7. Into the Rain

Disclaimer: So if I was the great LMA I would probably be rolling in my grave at the way this story is headed, so since I am writing and not rolling I think it's safe to assume that I am not she.

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Into the Rain

"After you, my lady," Laurie bowed slightly, eyes laughing, as he held open the door of the carriage for her. Meg was already inside, fussing over her rain spattered dress and Jo briefly considered out-waiting him just for the satisfaction, but she was quickly becoming soaked through so she bit her tongue and climbed in. Quickly she arranged herself so that she was sitting next to her sister, with their voluminous skirts occupying so much space it would be impossible for Laurie to sit next to her, but as he clambered in after her she realised the gravity of her error. Now she would have to spend the entire ride facing him, facing that knowing gaze and that maddening smirk of his. Irritated beyond all reason she jerked her face away.

At first they rode in silence with nothing but the hammering of the rain on the roof of the carriage to accompany them. Jo stared stubbornly out of the window, jaw clenched, refusing to utter a sound until finally it was left to Meg to engage Laurie in conversation. Although she tried her hardest to pretend that she wasn't listening it was impossible to shut out the sound of Teddy's voice, his light-hearted teasing of Meg, the way his voice danced as he laughed at something she had said. Was he just doing it to infuriate her? Because it was working.

"Oh, I do hope the children have been well behaved tonight, they can be such rascals you know, Demi especially," Meg was telling Laurie. "I'm quite convinced that he takes after Jo much more than either John or I, for he is forever in some mischief or other."

"And I am sure if he is anything like Jo he will revel in it." What in all of creation was that intended to mean?! Was he implying that she was in the habit of causing deliberate strife? That she was trying to create it between them? It was _he_ who was making things so infernally awkward! Jo's teeth were beginning to ache with the effort of keeping her mouth closed and she tried to ease it gently. Oh, how she wanted to scold him! Thank goodness Meg was here to save her from it.

Her sister had begun regaling Laurie with another tale of her wayward son, recounting his latest attempt to charm sweets from his mother, but Jo was only half listening. It had sudenly dawned on her, with a horribly jarring realisation, that she would be left alone in the carriage with Teddy. It had almost been another life when the three of them had last been at a party together and some part of her mind had slipped back into that other world, thinking that Meg would be going all the way to Orchard House with them. But those days were long gone and the little house fast approaching along the road was Meg's home now. Feeling a sensation of panic begin to bubble up inside her Jo forced it down and tried to think of a suitable excuse not to have to be caught in another painful conversation with Laurie.

In the end she grabbed for the first idea she could think of. It was late, no one would blame her if she fell asleep on the journey home. Cautiously Jo began to allow her eyes to droop slightly, the frown to smooth from her forehead and her chin to fall against her chest. After a few minutes her charade seemed to have worked, she heard Meg commenting on her exhaustion and Laurie's hushed response, lost amidst the clatter of the carriage. Jo tried not to smile to herself.

It wasn't long before she felt the wheels started to slow beneath her, the rain became louder, more regular and there was a shift in the vehicle's weight as first Meg and then Laurie climbed out. Cracking one eye slightly open Jo watched as he escorted her sister up the path, sheltering her as much as possible under a great, black umbrella. For a moment they stood in the porch conversing, but even if it hadn't been for the rain thundering down between them, they were too far away for her to catch anything. As she saw him turn to sprint back to the carriage, Jo quickly clamped her eyes shut again and resumed her rhythmic breathing.

There was a creak, followed by a bang as the door slammed shut and it was with an extreme effort of will that she didn't flinch at the unexpected sound. After that there was silence save for the rain and the splashing of the wheels as they moved off once more.

"Jo," Teddy's voice was suddenly low and clear inside the carriage. "I know you're awake."

For a long moment she considered maintaining her pretence and continuing to ignore him, but this was Teddy and she could no more ignore him than have apples fall from the sky. Her eyes flew open and she folded her arms, looking fiercely across at him. "How could you tell?"

"Your nose wrinkles when you're really asleep… and you snore a little."

"I do not snore!" She was indignant as his low chuckle echoed around the space, forgetting for a moment to feel uncomfortable. When he didn't say anything more, but rather just continued to watch her, the awkwardness she had felt earlier returned with full force. Everything she had said to him at their last meeting, their last few meetings if she was honest, kept replaying in her minds eye. It did little to settle her mood.

"So," she eventually turned her gaze on the window again, "did you enjoy the party?"

"It had its moments." Was he laughing at her?

"And I suppose Eliza Lincoln was one of those moments was she?" Jo wasn't sure what made her say it, but the comment slipped out anyway. She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"Eliza?" He sounded puzzled, but without looking at him she couldn't be sure and she refused to give him the satisfaction of turning her head. "What has she got to do with the price of peas?"

"Well you certainly spoke to her all night," she snapped back.

"How would you know? I thought you were ignoring me?" His questions began life as a joke but a sharp edge crept into them by the time they had finished, his jaw setting stubbornly as she finally condescended to turn and glare at him. "All that socialising and prancing around you were doing back there; I'm surprised you had time to notice anything else."

"_Prancing_?!" Jo spluttered almost incoherently as her temper ignited. "Well! I apologise if my attempts at being sociable don't live up to your exacting standards Mr Laurence. Perhaps you would be better off, as I've been telling you since the start, looking elsewhere if you want a perfect woman who can behave with exemplary poise at social functions! This particular woman would be quite happy to never go to the blasted things and sit at home scribbling all the time, an activity for which I don't need or require a husband thank you very much, let alone you!" She was shouting at him now, the words pouring from her mouth so rapidly that she had said them before she quite knew what they were.

"Jo -" His hand moved as though he was about to reach across to her.

"No," her hands flew up, fending him off. "No, Teddy, please don't! We've talked about this already and I have nothing else to say on the subject."

"You've talked Jo," he sounded terribly angry now, "but I don't think you mean half of what you say really. Now I'm just asking you to listen."

"No," she repeated, her voice hoarse through the yell. "No, no, _no_!" She shook her head with each exclamation to make her point. "I think I can walk from here Teddy," she banged desperately on the side of the carriage to make it stop. "The rain looks like it's easing." As she reached for the door handle a flash of lightening lit the sky and thunder rumbled nearby.

"Jo, don't talk nonsense. Jo – _Jo_!" He shouted as she slithered out of the carriage to land with a squelch on the sodden road. She looked down in dismay for a moment as the hem of her frock, her petticoats, her shoes, everything, disappeared into several inches of mud, before resigning herself to the fact and grabbing a handful of her skirts. With her head down against the rain now streaking into her face she began to stomp towards home ignoring the shout behind her, half drowned by the sound of the storm.

She had only made it to the bend in the road when the carriage suddenly rumbled past her, muddy water flying from its wheels and spattering her already ruined dress. It briefly crossed her mind to wonder what Marmee would think of the sight of her when she got home, but she was too busy being angry at Laurie for it to be more than a passing concern.

How dare he bring it all up again, when she had made her feelings perfectly clear? How dare he ignore her all night and then make fun of her like that?! To top it all off he was now driving away and leaving her out in the storm as though he didn't care! Jo felt a tear slide down her cheek, disguised by the rain, and swiped at it angrily. So busy was she in stomping her way down the darkening road, and raging at Theodore Laurence that she didn't hear him until he was right behind her.

"Jo!" A hand grabbed her arm and swung her about and she only just managed to bite back a shriek as she saw who her assailant was.

"Teddy, what on earth are you doing?! Why aren't you still in the carriage?" She had to shout to be heard over the rain.

"Because I had to follow some mad girl who thought it was a better idea to walk through the storm, that's why! Did you really think I was going to let you go marching off by yourself?"

Jo pulled her arm roughly from Laurie's hold, trying to turn back as she did so, but he refused to let her, catching both of her arms in a vice-like grip.

"No, Jo. For once in your stubborn life will you please just listen to me?" They were both breathless, shouting over the storm and drenched through. Teddy's black curls were plastered to his forehead, his dark eyes boring into hers as she gazed up at him. "I love you, I've said it before, and I'm going to keep saying it until you listen! I love you and I _know_ that somewhere under all that stubbornness and silly ideas about us being wrong for each other you love me too. And I – no, Jo don't run away from me again," he told her as she tried to twist free of him.

She was shaking, although it was only partly related to the weather and for a moment her hands flapped ineffectually, trying to break loose but unable to drag herself away.

"You're scared, and I understand that, but there is nothing to be afraid of. Surely you know I would never try to come between you and your writing, or your ambitions?

And as for all that rot about finding some perfect woman, I don't want her! I don't want Amy, and I certainly don't want Eliza Lincoln! I want _you_. I don't care if you're not perfect, you're perfect for me and that's all that matters."

For a heartbeat it was as though time stood still for Jo. There was nothing else in the world except the two of them, standing in the middle of a dark, windswept, storm-drenched road. Around them in the fields and woods, nothing moved, nothing breathed. It was just Laurie, standing there, a wild light in his eyes looking as though he was about to shake her. He didn't.

Instead her breath caught with a hitch as his lips crashed down onto her own. She tried to struggle, but it was useless as he held her fast and it was only a half-hearted motion anyway. Something within her stirred as the kiss deepened, something she thought that she had buried long ago, but only seemed to have grown in the interim. Without quite meaning to she found her neck arching back as she leant into his kiss, hands curling up around his elbows, the blood pounding in her ears. Each breath came more quickly than the last as his hands slid up her arms to her neck, the feel of his fingers tangling in her hair sending tremors racing across her skin. Of their own volition her arms moved to his waist, pulling their bodies together, clutching desperately. A heat flooded through her that drove away the frozen chill of the rain, coursing through her veins until she felt almost in danger of bursting into flame.

And then suddenly it was over, he was pulling away, taking a step back, although she noticed he maintained a steady hold on her hands. Both were panting, neither spoke. Laurie looked almost as shocked as she felt, as though he hadn't anticipated such a response. There was something else in his eyes though too, a hunger as they roved across her face. She wasn't sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was he seemed to find it, giving a tiny satisfied smile as he reached up and tenderly smoothed her sodden hair from her face.

"Come on, old thing," he murmured as though what had just happened was the most perfectly natural thing in the world. "Let's get you home and out of this rain."

Jo complied without protest as he looped her arm through his and began walking along the path again; she was still too stunned to function properly. Her mind didn't seem to have yet caught up with events of the last few minutes and was struggling to process things. Putting one foot in front of the other was about as much as she could manage. Almost before she knew it they were on the front porch of the March family home, warm, golden light spilling out from the windows, a comforting beacon in the face of the storm.

"If your mother asks, just blame me. Say the carriage threw a wheel and we had to walk."

"Teddy," she turned back to him, confusion furrowing her brow and not knowing quite what she wanted to say. The smile she received as their eyes met seemed to kindle some of the warmth she had felt earlier.

"Goodnight Jo," his lips brushed softly against her forehead before he swung down off the porch and disappeared into the darkness.

It took her a long time to get to sleep that night.

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A/N: Phew! Well, finally some pay off for all my torturing of Laurie and Jo. I hope everyone enjoys it, review and let me know!


	8. An Inability to be Serious

Disclaimer: Still not LMA, although there is a quote – helpfully italicised for your convenience – which I borrowed from LW in the chapter 'Beth's Secret'.

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An Inability to be Serious

"Jo, dear, are you sure you're quite alright?" Mrs March peered questioningly at her second child as the latter sat staring pensively out of the window. "You're not feeling unwell are you? You were soaked through last night; perhaps you've caught a chill?"

Startled from deep thoughts by the sound of her mother's voice, Jo looked round quickly, those same thoughts causing a blush to spread across her cheeks. "I'm sorry Marmee, what did you say?"

Her mother frowned, rising from her seat to feel the temperature of her daughter's forehead. "You don't feel fevered, but you're very flushed and you've been distant all morning. Are you sure you aren't catching something?"

"Oh, no Marmee. I'm perfectly fine thank you. Splendid in fact. I was just lost in thought, that's all." Very lost, she thought, although she didn't say so.

Jo had lain awake all night considering the implications of her rather eventful trip home. Much as she kept trying to convince herself that it had meant nothing, at least on her part, she knew that wouldn't even come close to being true. Something had changed in her feelings for Laurie over the course of that rain-soaked kiss. There was a passion there that hadn't been before. For those brief moments all her awkwardness with him had vanished, all her carefully planned arguments about their just being friends had melted away. Was it love? Was that what love felt like? Because she would have to be completely sure if she was to allow anything to continue, she didn't think her boy would be able to survive another knock-back. Their friendship certainly wouldn't at any rate.

Laurie loved her too much for her to sweep it all under the carpet again or even to delay for long, she had seen that. But what did she feel? She had written about love often enough; why then was it so hard to recognise in herself? She had run through everything a hundred times and then a hundred times again just for good measure. She had admitted she needed him and admitted she loved him as a friend; she felt better around him – when they weren't fighting – happier, lighter, more at ease than with anyone else. Was that love? The real true kind?

She could ask Marmee, her mother had always been able to help before, but then her mother thought they were wrong for each other. She had said as much after Laurie had proposed the first time. What if she was right, what if their tempers would get the better of them, overpower any affection that may or may not be there? Jo had always thought that marriage to anyone, Laurie included, would be a disaster. She would have had to give up on her dreams of being a writer if she was to become a wife, but then would anyone ever understand her ambitions as well as Laurie? He had spent years listening to every single scribbling she had ever produced, knew how dear to her heart being published was and he had said he would never try and stop her from pursuing that. Could it work? Their tempers might clash often, but when was there anyone else as wild and irrepressible as Jo around, if not her Teddy? When did anyone ever make her laugh so much?

And then there had been the kiss. Jo had rarely ever felt so alive and she didn't think it had all been related to her initial anger or the romance of the storm. The whole thing was just so dratted frustrating! She wanted to make the right decision and she knew she needed to do it quickly or either way she would lose him forever, and she couldn't stand for that to happen again.

In times when she was lost, scared and felt so alone, as she did now, she would often try to consider what Beth would have done in the situation. Beth had always been her moral compass when she had been alive and she knew she was watching over her now; what would she have to say about things? Her sister had lived for the happiness of others, but Jo knew that what she had said to Teddy was true, the two of them would only be happy together if Jo accepted with all of her heart. If only she knew what it was her heart was trying to tell her. She thought of Beth's wish that Laurie should one day be a brother to her and of what she had said of Jo on that last trip they took to the seaside.

"_You are like the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone."_

She was still fond of the storm and the wind that at least had not changed, although she wasn't as wild as she had once been, and she would still dearly love to fly off and see the wonderful places of the world. But would she be happy to do it alone forever now? Whenever she closed her eyes and thought of herself tramping about Europe or the more exotic corners of the world, there was now a shadowy figure with her. And if sometimes that shadowy figure bore the face of Theodore Laurence, well then, did that mean it was love? Oh, Bethy! She thought plaintively, if only you could tell me what was right!

She was just about to open her mouth to voice something of her inner turmoil to her mother, although she hadn't quite decided how much yet, when she saw one of the doors to the Laurence house open and a tall, brooding figure steal out. Her heart gave a queer little skip as he spared one glance towards her own home before making his way to the bottom of the garden in quick, purposeful strides. Jo leant forward in her seat, keeping sight of him until he vanished behind the trees; her breathing seemed to have quickened unnaturally and her hands were clutching the arms of the chair as though her life depended on it.

"Jo," her mother's voice cut across her thoughts, "Are you sure you're alright, dearest? You've gone very pale now. I think you should perhaps go and lie down, you don't want to make yourself unwell."

"No… No, what I think I need is some fresh air." As though she hadn't gotten enough of that the previous evening wandering around in the storm. "I won't be long, Marmee, I just need to step out for a spell."

If her mother thought anything of this she didn't say so.

Quickly and quietly Jo slipped out onto the porch, her face flushing again as she remembered standing there the previous night, and with whom. Taking a deep breath to steady nerves that suddenly seemed to be jangling alarmingly she turned around the side of the house and made her way towards the fence separating the two yards. For a moment her hand rested briefly on the postbox and she smiled ruefully as she considered her intentions, however fleeting they had been, to take the old thing down. How foolish that had been! She opened the lid gently, feeling the rough grain of the wood beneath her fingertips and imagining all the letters that had lain there, all the little correspondences between herself and Teddy, the gifts, the pranks, the secret things that only two friends as close as they could share in and understand. She remembered the little skip her heart had just given at the sight of him, the joy she had felt when she knew he had returned from Europe.

With a sudden determination that if she was to do something it might as well be now, Jo shut the box with a snap and in an entirely unladylike fashion clambered over the fence. She hoped her mother wasn't watching from the window, because as understanding as Marmee always was she would be utterly appalled to see her daughter behaving so.

Crossing the long garden in brisk, businesslike strides Jo soon located the object of her attention. Teddy was standing at the very bottom of the garden, half hidden by bushes and staring out into the tangled woods beyond. His shoulders were tense, his arms folded and he seemed lost in thought. For a moment all the mother-hen in her wanted to do was go up and embrace him, to shield him from all his worries and woes, although she knew that since she was the cause of most of them this would do little to remedy matters. Instead Jo increased her pace.

She could tell from the change in his posture that he had heard her coming, as though she had ever been any good at being quiet or subtle in the first place, but he didn't turn. Broad shoulders rose and fell as he inhaled slowly, his hands dropped to his sides and balled themselves into fists before unclenching gradually and repeating the process. Suddenly unsure of what she should do, or why she had even come outside in the first place, Jo made the decision to trust her instincts. Impulse had gotten her this far, and besides, why alter the habit of a lifetime?

Her mind's eye watched as though it was some other woman who crossed the space between them in three quick steps. She felt the fabric of his jacket beneath her palm as her hand rested on his shoulder, she could feel a trembling too, but she wasn't sure if that was from him or her – perhaps it was them both. She wasn't sure what she was doing, so she just did what felt right. Her heart was hammering again, although as she slid her arm down his back she could feel that his was twice as fast; as he turned his head to the side to watch her with one wary eye she could hear each of his breaths fluttering in and out. In the same way they had on the road last night her arms slid slowly around his waist and her head came to rest against his shoulder and for all that she was tall, Laurie was taller. They seemed to fit together perfectly.

For a moment they stood there, breathing quietly as one, neither saying a word, allowing their hearts to slow just a little, and suddenly Jo had the answer to her questions. To that one, most important, question. She had had it all along she suspected, but had been too much of a ninny, too much of a coward to recognise it. She loved Laurie enough. She loved her Teddy with all of her being and more besides. The knowledge didn't hit her like a thunder-bolt as she had thought it might, or had imagined in her stories. It was more as though someone had opened a window to let the knowledge blow in on the breeze. It had always been there, waiting patiently, it had just needed someone to open the latch.

Slowly her lips lifted into a lazy smile and whether or not he felt it she couldn't be sure, but Laurie stirred, bringing his hand up to gently clasp hers and turning so that they were facing each other. His face was flushed, hopeful as she hadn't seen it since that day in the grove before she had crushed his dreams so cruelly. The eyes that looked down on her now managed to convey so many emotions and with a depth that would have scared her had they not been reflected in her own.

"Jo?" He croaked eventually. "Does this…? I was going to give you more time… What does this…? Does this mean what I think…?" He couldn't finish, but the fingers that held her own gripped more tightly as he drew them to his chest.

"Teddy," she whispered his name and she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, the ghost of a smile brushing his lips as she put all the love she possessed into that one word. Reaching up she ran a trembling thumb across his cheek before dropping her hand back down to join his, their fingers tangling together. "Teddy, you asked me a question once and I asked you never to repeat it. Would it be possible… could you please ignore me when I say utterly nonsensical things like that?"

The habits of a lifetime pulled Laurie's face into a smirk and he couldn't help but tease. "Darling Jo, I'll never listen to a word you say again if this means you are going to accept me!"

Freeing her hand she swatted him lightly on the arm. "Teddy! Honestly, what a pair we make, we're unable to get through one proposal without quarrelling, the least we can try to do is make a serious job of it the second time around."

"Jo, you know fine well that we, neither of us, could be serious for long even if we tried." In spite of his words however, he endeavoured to do so, his voice becoming husky as he asked her a question. "Is that what this is then, a proposal?"

He was so close that she abruptly found herself wanting nothing more than to reach up and kiss the suddenly solemn lines of his mouth, but caution held her back. He hadn't asked her yet. She had a swift, fleeting moment of doubt. What if he wouldn't? What if he had changed his mind, or didn't think they were ready for such a step yet? But looking up into his smiling eyes she felt all those silly notions melt away again and with a motion so small that Laurie might have missed it had she not been occupying his full and entire attention, as she always had, Jo nodded.

For a moment she thought he wouldn't be able to speak, his throat seemed to be trying vainly to work, but no sound emerged. His large, black eyes seemed to shine with a light all of their own, communicating more love than words could ever express anyway, until finally he found his voice. "Well then, Josephine March, will you please, finally," he grinned, "do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Her heart began to beat faster as she, who had always determined to remain unmarried and scorned the institution for trammelling her ambitions, felt she was about to burst with happiness. Working her fingers free of his she reached up and twined her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his and allowing their breath to mingle in the little space between them. "Yes," she whispered, "although only if you promise that you'll never call me Josephine _ever _again!"

From so close she only had a limited view of his face, but she could see enough to know that a wide grin spread across his cheeks. "Oh, honestly! The sacrifices I make for you! What would you prefer then? My lady? My Queen? Your Highness? O great and beneficent authoress?"

She leaned forward until her lips were tickling his ear and could feel his heart beating rapidly against her own. "Right now, I'd really just rather you kiss me."

And for once in his life, Laurie was more than willing to do exactly as he was told.

* * *

A/N: So I think we'll leave them there, but fear not brave readers I've got the LW fic-writing bug so I'm sure there will be more Jo/Laurie fics soon. In the meantime though thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, you've all been amazing!


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